


This Conspiracy

by ForgottenYogurtGods



Series: Blood // Water [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: All triggers posted at the top of the chapters they appear, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Crossposted here wattpad and ff.net, Gen, Mix of Books and movies, OCs go into the Maze, POV Multiple, Pre-Canon, Pre-The Maze Runner, Reposting an old work on a new account, and Things happen, more characters added as they appear, updates every Monday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28986426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenYogurtGods/pseuds/ForgottenYogurtGods
Summary: When instead of one Greenie, there are three that come up in the Box and things become much more complicated. Meet Archie, Graham, and Flossy – a peculiar trio who set off a whole chain of events in the Glade.When Archie came up in the Box, he was accompanied by a girl, Flossy, and another boy, Graham. They arrived in the Glade, unsure of their futures or what would be expected of them. It all seems peaceful, until they start to learn about the Maze beyond the high Walls of their prison and the monsters that lurk there.
Series: Blood // Water [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126268
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, there!
> 
> I decided to repost an old work under a new account after I took some time to... rework some things that I didn't like. You know, almost 3 years after I first posted it. (Started this fic in January 2018, baby!) So, if this seems familiar to a couple of people, that's kind of why. 
> 
> I originally had over 40 chapters of this written, but I um... I misplaced their location. So. Thankfully, I have a lot of my old notes and the first three chapters. I thought they were all saved on my Google Docs, but apparently they weren't. Which means I'm searching all my old writing and school websites.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this fun mess. Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, into the maze we go!
> 
> ...in the next chapter!

**PART I - THE TRIO**

**Chapter 1**

**In Which The Story Begins With A Tragedy**

Marco and his son gently lowered the girl as carefully as they could from the top of the Box. They had seen the guards drop the boy in earlier and it had looked painful — if his groan afterwards was anything to go by. (They’d had to wait behind some of the few sparingly placed crates in the docking room to do so.) They didn’t want to risk the chance of injuring the girl, especially with where she was going. Who knew what would happen to an injured girl there?

“We’re going to have to let gravity do the rest,” Marco said, attempting and failing to gauge the fall. It wasn’t that far of a drop, from what he could see, that is. “On three. One, two –”

“Wait,” his son said, holding back a grunt as he adjusted his grip on her wrist, “on three, do we drop her, or then count to three and drop her?”

“We don’t have the time… On three, we drop her.”

“Right, okay.”

“One, two, three!”

She fell at a little bit at an angle, which might have spared her a broken leg or ankle. It did result in some minor scrapes on her hands and cheeks. Nothing that she wouldn’t be able to handle. Her feet were close to the subject’s head, however. Almost too close for comfort.

Unlike the subject lying close to her, she didn’t look like a drowned rat – almost all the subjects sent into the Glade (the place they were going) did. But not her. They didn’t have time to prepare her like the rest of the organization did. They were forced to work quickly. The doctor in charge of the program and her little “scientists” were bound to notice on their cameras in the Box, if they hadn’t before then. Knowing them, they were already on their way.

“Right,” his son said, “my swipe –”

“I’ll have to do it remotely,” Marco said. “Have you picked out a name?”

“Figured I’d go with my own.”

“Wouldn’t be fair to the other subjects.”

“Nothing about these Trials is fair, you know that. If we can find a way to mess them up from the inside for the Right Arm, we’ll be okay.”

“You’ll keep an eye on her, yeah? Think you can remember to do that?”

“So long as it’s programmed into my swipe, yeah.”

“Listen,” Marco said, grabbing his anm, “I know that I don’t tell you this very often, but –”

“Don’t get all mushy on me now, pops.”

Marco gave him a wry smile, bringing a hand up to squeeze his shoulder. He had **_so much_ ** that he wanted to say, and he didn’t think he would have much time to say it in.

“You’re so very like your mother. She’d be so proud of you.”

“Think she’d be proud of –”

“Her? Of course! Why wouldn’t she be. Family is family, after all.”

“She reminds me of Gramma sometimes.”

“It’s her smile, I know.”

There were calls and clicks from the other side of the door, startling them both. They didn’t have much time now. W.I.C.K.E.D. was just outside. And they were going to get in.

“Into the Box,” Marco said, forcing his son towards the drop off and darkness.

“Wait, dad. I have to –”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll take care of your swipe, don’t worry. I’ll get out of here once you’re in. They won’t chance hurting one of their precious subjects. And they wouldn’t risk hurting her. You know what she means to them.”

“W.I.C.K.E.D. won’t stop until she’s back with them,” his son said. “You know that, right?”

“They won’t risk pulling her out, not so soon after arriving. Just… In the meantime, protect her with your life.”

“What’s to stop them from taking control of her?”

“They won’t. Not yet. Once she’s in, she’s in until the Maze is solved. Paige wouldn’t risk it. It would disrupt her whole grand plan. Now, in!”

He forced his son down. He heard him land and give out a cry, wincing at the sound. He closed the hole in the Box, locking it to ensure that no harm would come to its recently made inhabitants. 

All three of them – his son, the girl, and the subject – were immune. And all of them had undergone the surgery for the swipes when they were quite young, the same age as all of the others. Standard procedure, he’d been told but he didn’t believe them. There was very little that saved his son and the girl from being pawns in W.I.C.K.E.D.’s games before, but drastic times call for drastic measures. W.I.C.K.E.D. always got what they wanted, in the end.

And so it was now or never.

He pulled out his workpad, pressing the holographic buttons to program his son’s swipe. He wanted to keep his original name, fine with him. But he had so little time to program the little device to do what he wanted, erasing W.I.C.K.E.D.’s programming as he did.

The door was forced open and in swarmed W.I.C.K.E.D.’s battle ready soldiers, guns at the ready to shoot and kill, if necessary. Paige was behind them. He could see the white of her suit through the sea of black and gray.

“Dr. Havensbee,” she said over the soldiers, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving my ass, Paige,” he said, flicking his eyes from the soldiers to the workpad, the little loading bar moving too slowly for his liking. “We both know how much all those kids mean to you.”

“And we both know how much **_those_ ** kids mean to you, Marco. Sending in your own son and Flossy? Is that really fair? To her? To Verena? Marco, think of everything she’s already gone through.”

“Her mind’s already been swiped. She won’t remember any of it. The kids will be fine. Flossy’s a good kid. She’ll stay in the Glade, just like she’s told. She’s not like the boys.”

“And what if the Grievers get in?” Paige said, pushing her way to the front. It was a desperate plea to try and get him on her side. Everyone knew of Flossy’s fear of the Grievers.

Marco swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat.

“Let’s just hope that the ones who’ve already gone through the Changeing keep an eye on her then,” Marco said.

Paige’s frown deepened, but she made no move or order to get to the three in the Box. After a moment, her voice rang out, her manicured finger pointed at him.

“Arrest him,” she said, “and send him to the Pits.”

The swipe never got past 79%.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Box arrives with three new Greenies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff: So, I forgot to say a couple of things in the first chapter. This is a mishmash of the books and movies. There were things I liked from each piece that I just kind of shrugged and went, “This’ll work. Kinda.” This means you’ll get a patchwork quilt of things. I hope you enjoy it, because I mostly made it for myself because I’m selfish like that.
> 
> Also, this is being crossposted on wattpad, ff.net, and ao3. Ff and ao3 are both under forgottenyogurtgods, while wattpad is under my old username because I actually remembered my password (and all three original chapters I initially posted were saved as drafts).
> 
> Also, TRIGGER WARNING. Blood and vomiting are mentioned in this chapter.

**Chapter 2**

**In Which Their Arrival Is Not What They Expect**

He woke up to his own retching and the sound of metal painfully grinding on metal. He gagged and coughed, trying to breathe as the stomach acid, water, and drool dripped past his lips and through the grating beneath him. The taste of bile was stale and familiar, as if he’d gotten sick many times before. And he felt like he had. He was only human, after all. Though he couldn’t recall any specific time. How odd. 

He didn’t register that there was anyone else with him until his stomach had emptied itself, and he was dry heaving. 

“Hey, shh,” the person said next to them, their hand rubbing soothing circles across his back. The voice was soft and distinctly feminine, pleasant to listen to. “It’s okay. Just… just let it all out.”

He looked over at the person crouched beside him. Yes, they were most definitely female – from what he could see through the periodical, rapid flicker of red lighting – if the long hair was anything to go by. A look of concern twisted her features as she watched him, curious and cautious and a bit grossed out. He would be too, if he was attempting to comfort a vomiting person. 

He wondered who she was and how she’d gotten there, with him. How had **_he_ ** gotten there? That was a good question.

“Where are we?” he managed to choke out as he looked around. They were in a tight space of some sort – a caged elevator, from what he gathered, with various supplies. The boxes and crates and drums had a word painted on them, one he couldn’t read. The letters didn’t look quite right to him. It didn’t help that their speed was rapidly increasing as they climbed higher and higher. And the red lights seemed to flicker as they passed them. It was an unsettling feeling.

If he’d been alone, he was certain he would have had a panic attack.

“Not sure. I woke up here, just like you did.” She brushed her hair behind her ear, eyes flicking about. She looked beyond him and nodded. “Can you check on him? I didn’t want to step on you.” 

He turned to see who she was talking about. ‘Lo and behold, there was someone else in there with them. No wonder the already small space felt so cramped. The other boy had been propped up on a crate, arm draped over it nonchalantly.

He made a move to the other boy and gently shook his arm. His head jostled to one side, revealing his face – a boy about his age, from what he could guess, if a bit older. Though, he wasn’t sure how he remembered his own age and not his name.

“Hey,” he said, squinting through the dim lighting. “Hey, you need to –”

He stopped short when the light reflected off his face. There was a dark substance staining the boy’s skin. He touched it and drew his hand back immediately. It was warm and slick, smelling strongly of copper.

“He’s bleeding!” he said, turning to look back at the girl, who’d crawled over to them. Which was probably the most she could do with the dizzying lighting and the rapid rise to the top of… wherever the cage was racing.

“What?” she said, moving in closer to see what he was talking about. Her hair brushed against his cheek – she smelled of something floral and of dried sweat. She gasped when she saw it. “We need something to stop the bleeding. Do you see any bandages anywhere?”

The pair of them looked about, lifting the burlap covers – which neither of them trusted to be sterile – to view the contents. Food, gardening tools, building materials, a couple of chickens, a goat, and... 

“Aha!” he said, pulling out a pair of pants from one of the crates. It was packed with clothes of all sizes. He didn’t think they would fit either of them, but that thought didn’t matter at the moment.

“Are they clean?” she said, trying to examine them in the lighting – an impossible feat.

“They’ll have to do for now.” He brought the pants over and pressed them to where he thought the injury was. They immediately started soaking up the blood.

He was about to ask her what her name was when the elevator jolted to a stop. She let out a yelp as she stumbled backwards, flat on her behind. He winced in sympathy, hoping the cage didn’t leave an oddly shaped bruise. It probably would.

An alarm sounded three times. It reverberated through the elevator shaft and his bones, and it left his ears ringing for a few moments afterwards. He felt like he’d gone deaf in the sudden silence, save the thumping in his ears and the trembling, bated gasps of their breathing.

They looked at one another and waited for something, anything really, to happen. After a few more minutes, the ceiling split open. Blinding light and humidity rushed in, nearly choking them. He hadn’t realized how cool he felt until that moment.

Voices above them cackled down at them.

“Hey, oh, Greenie!”

“Let’s see your face, you ugly shank.”

“Bet my eggs he klunked his pants.”

“What a shuck-face. Look at him!”

The girl didn’t waste any time garnering their attention. She shot up, blocking the light with her hand.

“We need help,” she said, her voice clear and crisp. She gestured to the unconscious boy, her hands trembling. “He’s bleeding – can’t tell how bad, but…” 

She looked back up at them, her brow creased with worry. Her gray eyes darted around the crowd above them, searching the faces for help.

“What the –? It’s a girl!”

The group of boys all looked at one another, unsure of what to do or say. There were some mumbles. A lot of them scuffed the toes of their shoes. No one made a move down to them for another few moments.

The grating that made up the top of the elevator was opened, and someone – a much taller boy, lanky and with a mop of blond hair on top of his head – jumped down. The boy looked her over and then to where he was staunching the wound. 

Someone above called for a Med-jack – whatever that was.

“Let me see,” the boy said, crouching down. He had a unique accent that couldn’t quite be placed. It could have been pleasant to listen to, had they not been in this situation.

He raised his hand just enough for the boy to get a view. The boy hissed and called to the others above them. 

“Help me get him up,” the boy said to him. 

He did as the tall boy said and hefted the unconscious boy’s arm over his shoulder. Together, they made their way to the crates and climbed up. Hands – dozens of hands – reached down and helped them with their load and hauled them up as well.

He looked around for the girl, curious as to where she’d gone to. 

She was talking to a boy with tanned and freckled skin who towered over her – almost everyone, all boys he noted, did. She gestured a bit frantically but, from her tone, he could tell she was trying to keep as calm as one could be in their situation. The handful around her listened intently.

A boy with bags laden with medical supplies took a look over the unconscious boy. In the light, he could see the damage better. The head wound was a clean slice right above the brow line. There were also scrapes and bruises on his arms and legs, as if he’d gotten into a fight. He looked… bad, for the lack of a better word.

He turned his attention back to the gathered crowd. Most of them seemed to be interested in the girl, eyeing her over. It didn’t sit well with him.

And, apparently, it didn’t sit well with the boy who’d gone down to help them either.

“Alright, you shanks,” the boy said, “back to work. We’ve got lots to do for tonight.”

Begrudgingly, the crowd dispersed. Only a few of the boys hung around, those who had been listening to her explanation.

“...and that’s all I know,” the girl said to the boy with tanned and freckled skin, a pair of round glasses perched on his nose. He nodded thoughtfully, chin resting in his hand as he listened. He had a feeling that this was the boy in charge.

“Thank you,” he said. To the boys still hanging around, he said, “Alright, here’s how things are going to go. We’ll go about it as we always do when a new Greenie comes. Just because we got three this time doesn’t mean anything. If we act normal, everyone will do the same. Good that?”

“Except we got **_her_ ** this time,” one of the guys said, crossing his arms. He was tall and sturdily built. It looked as though he’d had his face punched in. The scowl he gave her didn’t help his mug.

He was about to say something, but the girl beat him to the chase.

“And what’s wrong with me being a girl?” she said, folding her arms in front of her and frowning at him.

“There’s nothing **_wrong_ **with you being a girl, but you’re a girl in a place full of boys. Doesn’t take smarts, Princess, to figure it out.”

She bit her lip and looked about, as if noticing no other girls in the immediate area. Her shoulders slowly curled inwards. She seemed to shrink right before his very eyes.

The boy with tanned and freckled skin rested a hand on her shoulder, glaring at the boy who’d spoken up. 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “No one here would harm you. Isn’t that **_right_ **, Gally?”

The boy who’d spoken up grumbled something, but he agreed with the boy. He, at least, wouldn’t hurt her. The others… Well, he didn’t want to think about it right now. It was probably a good idea not to dwell on it too long.

“With that settled, I’m Nick, designated leader around here. Tell me, do either of you remember your name?”

He opened up his mouth, trying to push out a distant memory of… something, but it hung too far in the shadows to be summoned. 

“Flossy,” the girl said. “My name’s Flossy.”

She blinked, as if surprised by this revelation. She frowned and her brows furrowed as she looked up and around at them.

“Why do I remember my name,” she said slowly, “but nothing else?”

“Happened to all us shanks,” one of the other boys said. He was a stocky dark-skinned boy whose posture spoke volumes. His face, however, was kind and thoughtful.

“We all woke up with no memory of who we were, where we came from, or why we’re here,” Nick said. “Some bits – like your name – come back with time, but most of it… I wouldn’t worry about who you’d been in the past. The person you were isn’t who you are now.”

The answer didn’t seem to appease Flossy’s curiosity, but she didn’t say anything.

“How about we show you Greenies around, hm?” the boy with the odd accent said, thumping him on the shoulder. “Come on, Greenie, Flossy. Nick and I will show you about, good that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff cont’d.: I spent a lot of time blanking on the Glader slang because I hadn’t heard or read it in a while and spent a lot of time “WTF does that mean? Does that make sense? Did I use that right? How was that used in the book?” So, yeah. Lots of second guessing the younger me who wrote this.  
> So, this past week, I stayed at my work twice (I work at a hotel and there was supposed to be some bad snow storms here, it’s all fine). Both times, the fire department came. I’m not allowed to stay anymore. NOT MY FAULT, but it’s just a weird coincidence.
> 
> What am I listening to? [The Wayward Guide For The Untrained Eye](https://www.tincanbros.com/wayward-guide)
> 
> Want to keep in touch? Ask me any questions? See what stuff I’m into? [You can find me on tumblr at forgottenyogurtgods](https://forgottenyogurtgods.tumblr.com/). I reblog writing things, as well as archaeology and anthropology stuff that catches my eye, and some fandom things if I happen to see them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff: Guys, I’m so dumb. I found all the old chapters. Here I am, thinking I have to completely rewrite the majority of this thing because I only have these three files from my old computer and on my Google Docs. I opened them up and got really confused why the first chapter was 82 pages. I scrolled down and screamed. Actually screamed. And then I checked the other two files. All 40-something chapters are there. 
> 
> I am so dumb.
> 
> They’re all there. All 40+ chapters. I’m going to cry.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

**In Which The Greenie And The Greenbean Have A Run In**

The boy with the odd accent was named Newt – after the little salamander creature, from what Flossy could tell. He was kind and patient, explaining things Nick didn’t want to go into too much detail on. They explained where they were – a lush, green place called the Glade – and how almost all of them had come up in the box.

“Save for a group of us,” Newt said. She noted the slight tension between him and Nick, as if something had transpired between them. Something fairly recent. She kept it to herself, though. It was best not to butt into other peoples’ business on the first day of meeting them. “Thirty of us just woke up around it with no memory of who we were. We learned quickly that certain things had to be done a certain way or everything falls apart.”

“We have an order here,” Nick said, looking them both over, “and we expect you to follow it.”

“We have three rules. Fairly simple enough.”

“One: Do your part.”

“Can’t have blokes being lazy. Like Nick said, we have an order here. Break it and everything falls apart.”

“Two: Never hurt another Glader.”

“Pretty self-explanatory, but we all trust and depend on one another. If we can’t do that, well, you get banished.”

“And, three: No going beyond those walls,” Nick said, gesturing to the high walls boxing them into the Glade.

“Only a few people are allowed outside of them,” Newt said. 

Curiosity flared across Flossy’s mind. What was beyond those walls? She studied them from a distance. 

She guessed they were three times the height of the trees in the forest – the Deadheads, she thought that that was what Newt called them. And there was ivy climbing up the sides, though they didn’t reach even half way up. There were four large gaps that could be doors leading out into… Into what, exactly, she would find out later. They gaped open at the four cardinal directions – though how she knew that, she wasn’t exactly certain.

“And who are these people who can go out there?” the boy who’d come up in the Box said. He had rather pleasant features, she thought. Dark hair and eyes, with olive skin and an aquiline nose and square jaw. When he spoke, his cheeks and chin dimpled. He wasn’t as tall as Newt or Nick, but he was still taller than her. She was just shorter than his shoulders. And he wasn’t very broad. 

He didn’t intimidate her as some of the others did – like, what was his name? Gally? Yeah, she thought his name was Gally. Gally was… He was made to be intimidating. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

She felt, rather than saw, Newt and Nick share a glance over her head. She’d purposefully positioned herself between them. Something told her she could trust these two to keep her from any harm, or rather from any of the boys who wished to do her harm.

The spot they’d chosen was a little hill away from everyone else, sort of overlooking the Glade. She could hear the shouts and calls of the boys as they helped one another and tried to get each other’s attention. 

A group of musclular boys were hauling things out from the Box, carrying them away to different destinations based on their contents. The one with dark skin – who’d been amongst the few who’d stayed behind when the boys were told to scatter – was directing them. Newt’s gaze was drawn to him. She swore she heard him sigh once or twice.

Other boys were working in different parts of the Glade. A handful were over by the gardens, another handful were working with the animals, and some others were guarding the entrances (exits?) for whatever was beyond the walls.

“Not important,” Nick said. “Greenies never go out there. It’s for your own safety. Don’t need you shanks being Griever bait.”

The word “Griever” sent a shudder through her, as if she could tell just by the name that it was bad. Whatever they were, she hoped that she never found out.

There was a cry from one of the ramshackle buildings. Everyone looked toward the sound. Out of the largest building – the Homestead? – shot a figure, a streak of blonde hair bobbing up and down. A familiar figure. It was the boy who’d been unconscious with them in the Box.

Flossy stood with Nick, Newt, and… the Greenie, watching the previously comatose boy sprint towards the open gate of the Wall. The boys all took off after the running boy – both Newt and Nick startlingly quick – leaving her to try and catch up. The Greenie was the one who got to the once unconscious boy first, angling himself so they would inevitably collide.

Really, she’d never seen anything more painful looking in her life. It sounded painful, too. She, Nick, and Newt trotted over. They were joined by many other boys who’d been working. 

Both boys were on the ground moaning, clutching their sides with fluttering eyes.

“That was stupid,” the Greenie said, breathless. He looked up at her, blinking past the light of the sun for the second time that day. “Remind me to never do that again.”

She barked out a laugh.

“Don’t think I’ll ever have to,” she said.

Nick offered the Greenie his hand, hauling him to his feet – though he remained rather unstable for a moment. The other boy coughed, glaring up at the sky.

“Be glad the Greenie here stopped you before we could,” Nick said down to him, patting the Greenie on the back. “Newt or I could’ve hit you much harder.”

“Archie,” the Greenie said, licking his lips. “Name’s Archie. Running into him made me remember.”

“Good that, Archie. You can thank him later, shank.”

“It’s Graham,” the Greenbean said from his place on the ground.

No one moved to help him up.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Be glad Archie stopped you from breaking one of our most important rules,  **_Greenbean_ ** . We don’t want you getting lost out there. It’d mean your death. We’re not going to waste our resources to go and play fetch on a Greenbean, of all people, good that?”

“Whatever.”

Nick frowned at the Greenbean’s –  **_Graham_ ** ’s – indifference. He pointed Gally and another bulky looking boy.

“Rest of the day in the Slammer with no lunch,” Nick said to them. “Make sure the Baggers know he has to stay there until tonight.”

“Good that,” Gally said. He and the bulky boy grabbed Graham under the arms and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, you slinthead.”

They lead him away to a section that she and Archie hadn’t been shown. It was a spot tucked away behind the Homestead, though it was closer to the Wall. She didn’t get a good view of it, but it looked out of place in the Glade – a cement structure of some sort. Something told her that she would not like spending the night there.

“If you break any of the rules,” Nick said, “you spend time in the Slammer. How much time and whether or not you get any food depends on how severely the rule was broken. Like I said earlier, we have an order here and we expect you to keep it. Good that?”

“Right,” she said. “Got it.”

“Now, we need to address something that may cause potential trouble – you being a girl.”

She winced. He made it sound as if it were her fault for ascending up to the Glade. She was pretty sure it wasn’t.

“I’m going to try and set up special sleeping arrangements for you, so you don’t have to sleep outside with the boys. They’re not, ah, the most pleasant people to be around when they sleep.” She was about to ask but figured it was best that she didn’t know. “I’m going to call a quick Gathering and see what the other Keepers think. If you have any suggestions or preferences, let me know before then, good that?”

“I wouldn’t mind sleeping near everyone if it’ll cause trouble,” she said. 

Nick nodded.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. “Now, it’s almost lunch time. Newt, you mind taking the Greenies to Frypan? I’m going to go talk to our other Greenbean, let him know what’s what.”

“Good that,” Newt said. They watched as Nick trudged over in the direction of the Slammer. After he disappeared from view, Newt drew their attention. “Alright, Greenies, you heard Nick. Let’s go get something to eat.”

* * *

Frypan was a large boy – more of a man, really – in charge of making food for the Glade. He offered up sandwiches and smiles, making her instantly like him. And he was a bit of a flirt, which sort of annoyed her. Then again, he was better than most. At least he wasn’t leering at her, and his flirting was mostly harmless and more like teasing.

Newt specifically chose a spot for them to eat. He tucked her away in a corner that would be difficult for most of the Gladers to get a good view of her – something she was thankful for. With Newt and the Greenie – **_Archie_ ** , she corrected – sitting in front of her, she was blocked off from their view. Gally had opted to sit next to her — though she didn’t know why. She got the impression that he didn’t like her. Maybe she was wrong. 

She wondered if there was a reason all the boys in the Glade were so tall. Maybe it was Frypan’s cooking. She tried not to snort out a laugh at that. She attempted to cover it up by pretending to have a bit of bread caught in her throat.

“You alright there, Girlie?” Newt said.

She nodded, taking a gulp of the water he’d brought her. 

“I’m fine,” she said. She pushed her mostly empty plate forward. Archie reached across and grabbed the partial sandwich she couldn’t finish. “Right, so we’ve had the tour, gotten a look at punishments for misbehavior, and eaten. What’s next?”

“The Keepers are going to have a Gathering,” Gally said, polishing off his third sandwich. Maybe that was why the boys were all so tall, they ate a lot. She saw him glance at her out of the corner of his eye, as if he blamed her for this whole thing – he probably did. Gally struck her as the sort to follow the rules and keep the order of the Glade. And there she went, disrupting the peace and order. Oh how he must hate her.

She decided that she wouldn’t lament it too long.

“So,” Archie said, “what’re we supposed to do in our free time?”

Newt gave them an impish grin. 

“Glad you asked,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff cont’d.: I’m going to keep screaming for the next couple of hours. After I get home from work. Because I post at work. So, ah.
> 
> What am I listening to? [ Follow me on tumblr at ](https://www.listennotes.com/podcasts/canonically-incorrect-canonically-incorrect-lXRkZoH_zJw/)[forgottenyogurtgods](https://forgottenyogurtgods.tumblr.com/) for writing stuff, fandom stuff, and lots more!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have zero recollection of writing this chapter. I’m not sure if I wrote it at work or at home or at the library, but apparently it was done and here it is for you. 
> 
> Trigger warning: There is some drinking of alcohol in this chapter.
> 
> Have fun.

**Chapter 4**

**In Which There Is A Wrestling Match**

It wasn’t as bad as he thought – he was glad he didn’t have to help cleanup after lunch – but collecting dry underbrush and tinder wasn’t much better. He was certain he’d gotten two dozen or so splinters. He didn’t want to complain, though. Something told him that he would receive a massive amount of teasing for it.

That, and Flossy didn’t seem to mind in the least. The work, that is. A few of the Gladers followed after her, carrying anything she unwillingly handed them. They reminded him of puppies or ducks or something. It was sickening to the point he thought he might actually vomit. They were doing all the heavy-lifting for her.

“Do they really have to do that?” a boy – Archie didn’t know his name – said. He nodded in the direction of Flossy and her ragtag group.

“It’s like they’ve never seen a girl before,” he said.

“Not that any of us can remember.”

“How long have you been here?” 

“I was the second one to come up, so about… sixteen months now? Yeah, that sounds right.”

Archie whistled.

“You’ve been here a long time, then.”

“Not as long as some of the others.”

“The original thirty, right? I think I remember Nick or Newt mentioning them.”

“More like nineteen now, but yeah.”

“What… what happened to the other eleven?” Archie said.

“The Maze happened,” the boy said, nodding to the high walls. 

Not for the first time, Archie looked them over. They were tall and imposing, sure – and he did feel a smidge claustrophobic stuck in the Glade – but they also had this sort of…  **_safe_ ** feel to them that he couldn’t quite describe.

“What’s out there?” Archie said.

“What?”

“What’s out there that’s got everybody all… freaked out?”

The boy gave him a confused look, mulling over his words, before answering.

“Nothing for you to worry about, Greenie. If the Keepers decide that you need to know, then they’ll tell you. As it stands, you don’t need to know. Just stay out of the Maze, and you’ll be fine. Good that?”

“Good that.” The words felt strange on his tongue.

“Now, let’s get those shanks to leave the poor Girlie alone, yeah? They have their own jobs to get to.”

* * *

Archie watched as the group of boys who’d been trailing after Flossy – all Builders and Bricknicks, he’d learned – stuffed the underbrush and kindling into the chest strangely made skeleton-eqsue figure. It reminded him of a horrifying scarecrow of sorts. A scarecrow made of wood and topped with an animal skull – goat if he remembered correctly.

“Gally’s idea,” the boy – Dave, he’d learned after asking – said. “Started making these a tradition four months after I arrived. It’s for the bonfire tonight.”

“We’re having a bonfire?” Archie said, blinking at him.

“Have one every time a new Greenie shows up. It’s tradition at this point. And with three of you, Nick decided we’ll have a half day tomorrow so everyone can sleep in a little longer. Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome?”

Dave laughed at that.

“Don’t worry, shuck-face. You’ll have fun. You and the Girlie and the Greenbean.”

“Flossy and Graham.”

“Yeah, them.”

“Why can’t you guys call us by our names?” Archie said.

“Another tradition – I think Alby or Minho started it. Can’t remember who. It’s been too long.”

“Who’s Minho?”

“You’ll meet him later, don’t worry. Nice guy, really. Kind of full of himself and cracks a lot of jokes, but he really cares about everyone here. You’ll like him.”

Archie just nodded, continuing to help Dave and a few others set up tables and benches around a sandpit – for wrestling, Dave told him – and the firepit. He wasn’t sure how long they had worked for, but by the time they finished the sky was starting to change colors and the Keepers just broke up their Gathering.

Alby headed straight for Flossy, who quickly dismissed herself from the conversation with the Builders and Bricknicks. They moved a ways away from the firepit to speak in private. It looked like a solemn conversation, but the way the tension left Flossy’s shoulders made him think it was good news.

“I have a feeling Alby’s going to have you watch something in a bit,” Dave said. “We all had to see it on our first day.”

“Another tradition?” Archie said.

“Sort of? It’s more like… It’s more life and death than anything else. It just kind of shows why we are the way we are, and why we do certain things.”

Dave was right. As soon as Alby was done conversing with Flossy, they headed straight to him. Together, they all walked to the North opening in the Wall. Gally and one of the Baggers – what the other boys essentially called guards – brought Graham out. They held tightly to his arms until they reached the gathered group.

While they waited two people jogged into the Glade from whatever lay beyond – an eerie sort of place dripping with ivy and shadows between the high walls. It stank of damp and mold and rot. The very sight of it sent cold fingers down his back, tracing odd patterns that zigzagged and curled on his spine.

One of the people, one of the boys, was a tall Asian boy and the other was a lanky kid with very dark skin. They looked almost like all of the other boys in the Glade. Nothing about them really told him that he should pay attention to them.

“Hey, Alby,” the Asian boy said. He and the other kid paused, taking in the three new faces. The Asian boy’s eyes stopped on Flossy, his eyebrows rose up. He opened his mouth to say something.

“We’ll talk later,” Alby said to him.

“Good that,” the boy said, nodding.

“That was Minho,” Dave said quietly to him.

Before Archie could respond, there was a loud grinding noise. The ground under his feet trembled, little pebbles on the cobbled floor of the world beyond the Walls bouncing like jumping beans. He could only watch in awe as the opening started to close in front of him. A strong breeze – like a heavy breath – that smelled of dirt and moldy greens and wet stone blew past them.

Graham sank to his knees as he watched on, mouth and eyes open in abject horror. 

No one said anything after the Walls – the North gate – closed in front of them. A few of the Gladers who’d decided to watch their reactions left – a few groaning and snarling at their failed bets, mostly against Flossy from what he could pick up (they’d expected her to faint or something).

The three of them – Archie, Flossy, and Graham – were left to muddle over their own thoughts.

“We’re trapped here,” Flossy said after a few quiet moments. Her voice was soft – curious but soft. “I wonder what’s out there. That closing us in is necessary.”

“Nothing good,” Archie said. “If the walls close, there’s nothing good out there. They’re meant to protect us.”

“It’s a prison,” Graham said. He slowly nodded his head. “We’re prisoners in this place.”

“I don’t think so,” Flossy said. “I think there’s a way out, they just haven’t quite got it yet.”

“Why would it take them so long then?” Archie said. “I mean, it can’t be  **_that_ ** difficult, can it?”

“Well, they have a limited amount of time. Figure that in with how long they’ve been here, how expansive the place beyond the walls are, and some other factors… It’s entirely possible they just haven’t found the exit yet. Or maybe they have, and they just didn’t realize it.”

* * *

Graham sat off to the side, watching the festivities take place. His downcast expression made many of the Gladers steer clear of him. No one wanted to be brought down from the high they seemed to be riding on since the three of them arrived.

Newt introduced them to all of their different groups of Gladers – Slicers, Builders, Bricknicks, Cooks, Baggers, Sloppers, Track-hoes, Med-jacks, and Runners – as well as their Keepers. It was a lot of information and a lot of new Gladers to take in. Archie’s head was swimming.

Graham seemed like he could care less about the goings on in the Glade, as if he’d rather not know anybody. It was kind of sad.

Flossy, meanwhile, was swamped with attention. Every time she’d managed to break away from one group, she’d be absorbed in another. She looked a little overwhelmed again. 

Newt eventually came to her rescue and corralled the three of them back together. Well, truthfully, Newt had them sit by Graham so he could talk to the three of them.

“Right,” Newt said, “so, only a partial day tomorrow.”

“Dave mentioned that, though he said a half day,” Archie said. Newt nodded, taking a sip of… something from a jar. A lot of the Gladers seemed to be drinking it. He wondered what it was.

“Builders, Bricknicks, Sloppers, and Track-hoes got a half day. Anyways, Nick left it up to me to tell you about what you’ll be doing tomorrow.” Archie and Flossy leaned closer and tilted their heads in interest. Graham remained impassive. “I’ve already talked to Winston, and he said he’ll take you three on. You’ll be working in the Blood House.”

“We,” Flossy said, making a face. “We won’t have to…  **_kill_ ** any animals, will we?”

“Winston won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.” Newt took another sip of his jar. Archie thought he heard him say ‘I hope’, but he wasn’t absolutely certain. “Now, being a Slicer is an all day thing because you have to help take care of the animals. You won’t be starting as early as Winston and a few others, but you will be working most of the day. Nick was able to arrange that, at the least. Sorry about that.”

A loud cheer rang up from around the sandpit. Archie turned and saw Dave sprawled out on the ground. Gally, laughing good naturedly, offered a hand to help him up. Dave took it, patting Gally on the back once he was on his feet. Dave turned and saw him watching.

“Hey, Greenie,” he said, “why don’t you give it a try? Come on, Gally will go easy on you.”

The Gladers whooped and hollered at the thought. One came over and pulled Archie over. Newt and Flossy followed after them, Flossy tugging Graham with her. 

“You can’t avoid everyone forever,” he heard her say to the other boy. He didn’t tug away from her, surprisingly. He just looked irritated.

Archie kicked off his boots and socks, feeling the sand slide between his toes. It was pleasantly warm and not the least bit uncomfortable.

“Alright,” Gally said when he was ready, “the rules are simple: Play fair and if you fall out of the ring, you lose. We go three rounds, good that?”

“Good that,” Archie said, nodding. That phrase was starting to feel very familiar on his tongue.

The Gladers around him cheered. They were rather rowdy, all with jars of the same amber liquid that Newt was drinking. Some of it sloshed onto the sand, creating wet clumps that would stick to his feet if he stepped on them.

He and Gally slowly circled the ring, neither of them taking their eyes off the other. Neither of them trusted the other person not to make the first move. The din around him was overpowered by the thump-thump of his blood pumping in his ears. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but it was difficult. 

It was Gally who made the first move – stepping and taking a swipe at Archie, who dodged easily. They met in the middle, hands raised. They grappled the other’s elbows and held fast. 

Gally had a bit more traction than Archie, forcing him to slide backwards in the sand. Archie dug his feet down, in hopes of slowing his progress. His toes clamped around the sand as they tried to hold him in place. It was in vain.

Archie ducked down and to the left, causing Gally to stumble. Archie kicked his leg back, aiming for Gally’s knee. He made contact, but he hit lower than he’d intended. 

Gally landed on his hands and knees. He quickly scrambled to his feet, kicking up sand in Archie’s direction. Archie was forced to cover his face, unable to see the hit that came next. 

He was hefted up and over, landing on his back. The crowd let out a cry – whether in sympathy or encouragement, Archie wasn’t sure. He was too worried about the possible bruise and gaining his breath back.

He was pulled up again and forced out of the circle, into the onlookers. They pushed him back in. He practically belly flopped the ground.

Gally offered him a hand up.

“Round one, Greenie,” he said, smiling. “Ready for round two?”

Once Archie had his bearings, he nodded. Round two began.

It was Archie, this time who made the first move. He zigzagged forward, arms at the ready. Gally rose up to meet him in the middle.

Archie swiped his feet out, trying to trip Gally up. 

Gally ended up using that to his advantage. He knocked Archie flat on his back. Archie rolled over and kicked Gally’s knees, managing to hit the backs of his knees this time. 

The kick didn’t knock him down, but it allowed Archie a chance to get back on his feet. He grabbed Gally’s arm and swung him towards the edge of the sandpit. Gally tripped on the low rope that acted as a barrier, sending him out.

The Gladers sent Gally back in – a little more kindly than they had Archie – and round three began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t write action scenes very often. And this actually turned out okay. Nothing but smiles from me over here. Hopefully it made sense to y’all.
> 
> What am I listening to? [Exolore: facts-based fictional worldbuilding](https://www.exolorepod.com/)
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at [forgottenyogurtgods](https://forgottenyogurtgods.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bonfire night continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I didn’t remember writing the last chapter, I remember writing this one. I was at work. It was cold, and I had to have a space heater because the furnace for the lobby was broken.
> 
> It was bad because I had to mop the floor every couple of hours, and with there being snow outside, cleaning up the dried salt was a pain. Seriously makes me reconsider where I live. Anybody in a non-northern US state looking for a roommate?
> 
> Anyway, my baby sister got married this past Friday. It was a little courthouse ceremony where the judge permitted them to remove their face masks to kiss, and some of our friends and family got together for a small reception at my brother-in-law's mother’s house. I posted a couple of pictures on my tumblr (just search my wedding tag). It was nice and it was the first time I had a weekend off since last June.
> 
> COVID has been… yeah.
> 
> Trigger warning: There is some drinking of alcohol in this chapter.

**Chapter 5**

**In Which Newt Has… Something To Do**

The wrestling match was painful to watch – and was probably more painful to experience. Flossy wasn’t sure who she wanted to win. If she really wanted anyone to win, that is. There seemed to be a pecking order of sorts. If Archie won, he would throw that off and Gally would most likely hold a grudge against him for that. If Gally won, Archie would be bitter about it, there was no doubt about it. 

Boys, she decided, were strange, curious creatures with a penchant for bluntness and physical violence. How she was going to handle living in this place – without any other female support – she had no idea. 

She winced as Gally was thrown back in the circle after the second round. He and Archie prowled the sand like freakish predators while they waited for the other to strike first. 

“This is going to be interesting,” Newt said next to her. She nodded, watching as the boys flexed their hands like a cat does its paws, fingers curled towards their palms like claws or talons. 

She didn’t see who struck first, she just saw the aftermath. Sand was kicked high into the air as both boys pinwheeled around. She ducked behind Newt in hopes of not getting sand all over her, though her action did very little to actually help. Several of the nearby Gladers let out cries as it plopped into their drinks.

When she finally peaked around Newt’s arm, Archie was out of the circle and Gally was breathing heavily in the sandpit. Gally walked over to Archie and offered him a hand. Archie took it. Both boys pat each other on the back, laughing good naturedly. The two talked, grinning, as they walked over to Frypan and the bacon he’d cooked up – and the drink station, she noted.

Okay, she understood less of boys than she thought. A  **_lot_ ** less.

“Well that was fun,” Newt said, frowning down into his jar. He dumped up the amber liquid into the grass. He gestured for her and Graham to follow him.

Archie was handed a half-filled jar. Gally held one out to her and Graham. She took it, eyeing the liquid curiously. Graham downed a portion of it before choking.

“What is this stuff?” he said, gaping at the beverage.

“My own brew,” Gally said, crossing his arms and leaning against the table holding up Frypan’s bacon, with a smirk and mirth dancing in his eyes. “What’s the matter, Greenbean, can’t handle it?”

Archie took a sip and almost immediately spit it out. His eyes were watering. Newt, Frypan, and Gally traded amused expressions. Apparently, this was something that entertained them immensely.

“I don’t think you’re going to like it, Girlie,” Newt said, looking down at her.

She took a tentative sip and winced. It wasn’t that it tasted that bad — something told her she’d had worse at some point before her abrupt arrival at the Glade — it was more the burn after it went down that got her. After it settled in her stomach she decided she liked the taste, so she took a slightly longer drink. The looks on the boys’ faces was well worth the burn down the back of her throat.

“What?” she said, innocently. She had to bite the inside of her cheek from grinning at them. It didn’t help much. She couldn’t help but be a bit smug.

“Girlie’s got bigger balls than half the shanks here,” Frypan said, smiling at her. She returned it earnestly – and a smidge more prideful than she should have.

“Not bad, Princess,” Gally said with a snort, but the smile didn’t completely disappear from his face. And it was a tad softer than the smirk he’d shot towards the boys.

The group slowly dispersed after that. Gally went back to the sandpit. Archie was dragged about by a few other Gladers who wanted to congratulate him on a good fight and offer to go against him the next time he wanted in. Nick came over and gathered Graham for another talk.

Newt stuck nearby, though he tended to look about for something – or, rather, someone – every few minutes or so. He was making her feel anxious.

“If you don’t want to babysit me,” she said, “you can go do whatever it is you want to do.”

“No, no,” he said. “It’s not that. It’s just…”

“Nick normally handles the Greenies, right? This is sort of your first time doing this?”

He scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah. He’s training Alby and me in case anything happens to him. The three of us didn’t get on very well when we first came here, but we’re the only ones he can trust with keeping everyone in order.”

She frowned.

“Why would anything happen to him?” she said.

“Nick’s one of our Runners. Me and Alby are too. He usually goes out every other day, so Nick can be around in case anything happens in the Glade.”

“And you?”

“As often as I can. I’m the Keeper of the Runners, after all. On days that I don’t, I’m helping in the Gardens. Can’t stay still very long. It gets boring.”

“Are the Gardens nice?”

“It’s fairly quiet, usually. Peaceful and relaxing. Zart’s a great Keeper. Why, you thinking about being a Track-hoe?”

“I can’t see myself as a Builder, that’s for sure.” Her eyes wandered on their own volition to the sandpit, where Gally was locked in another wrestling match. This time it was with a Glader who could match him in bulk but not in stature. She wondered if he was a Builder as well.

“It takes a certain breed to be a Builder. All brawn, no brains.”

She choked on the woody tasting drink, gaping at his audacity. She felt a grin spread across her face.

“What?” Newt said, shrugging innocently – though his eyes glinted mischievously in the glow of the firelight. “It’s true.”

“Be lucky Gally didn’t overhear you,” she said, brushing off any of the drink that had dribbled down on her shirt – thankfully, it wasn’t much.

“Gally wouldn’t do anything to me. He and I have an understanding.”

She snorted at that, daring to take another sip. A moment of silence passed between them. It hung over their heads, an uncomfortable sort of feeling resting on her shoulders.

“Newt,” she said, “if you have something else you want to do, seriously, go ahead. I’m going to have to get used to being surrounded by boys eventually. If I need any help out of a situation, I’ll bother Frypan or another Keeper.”

“You’ll do what now?” Frypan said, hearing his name. She smiled at him, and he nodded. “Got it. Any slinthead gives her trouble, I’ve got her back. Same with any of the other Keepers. Go on, shuckhead. She’ll be fine. She’s had less to drink than half the shanks here.”

Newt hesitated for just a moment before jogging off to… Alby, who’d been chatting away with one of the guys who had run out of the Maze earlier that day. After a moment, they walked off to somewhere tucked away in the creepy forest— the Deadheads.

She stuck near Frypan for a little while before she felt that she wore out her welcome and decided to make her rounds to take everything in. She sat down in front of the bonfire, warming the toes of her shoes as she mulled over the conversation she’d had with Nick earlier.

She was going to be sleeping in a spare room in the Homestead. It was one of the two empty sickrooms – something they hadn’t needed in a long while. There’d been a big debate on whether or not to have a hut built just for her – something she’d have felt awful for – but after the insistence that it was for her own safety that she be kept near the Keepers, those for building the hut forfeit the idea.

Unless, of course, girls would be coming up from then on. Then an all female hut would be absolutely necessary. 

She still wasn’t sure if she was lucky or not. 

And then there was the matter of clothes. The Creators hadn’t sent anything up for a girl, just boys. So, they’d had to recruit a few slimmer and shorter Gladers to donate shirts and trousers for her to wear. Most of them were still a little big on her. She hoped that the Creators in the next shipment of materials – next week, Nick told her – would send her a few things. She’d compiled a list, per Nick’s request, of items she thought she’d need in the future.

Seeing Nick blush at the mention of tampons and pads or some form of birth control had been amusing. As if he hadn’t been expecting them to be mentioned. Truthfully, he probably hadn’t even thought about it until she’d brought it up. It was a girl-only problem, after all. But it was one she wanted some sort of remedy for.

She didn’t dare to hope, however, that the Creators would give her something other than some painkillers. Something told her that her monthlies could be painful, and she’d probably need those days off. 

She didn’t even want to think of what the boys would think of it all. Probably that she was being a sissy or whatever they called weak Gladers. Really, their slang was ridiculous. 

“Hey, Girlie, what’re you doing here all by yourself?”

A Glader sat next to her, a jar mostly empty in his hand. He wasn’t exactly the steadiest on his feet but he was able to sit down rather gently. She scooted away from him, just a bit. After having spent the afternoon with Gladers who forced themselves into her personal space, she needed a little air to breathe. She had a feeling she was used to playing nice, all smiles and polite words, that any kind of bluntness wasn’t what people would expect from her. She might have to pick it up, however.

“Sorry,” he said, scooching a few inches away, “didn’t mean to sit so close. I’m Zart.”

He held out a hand to her, looking at her through rather long lashes – he reminded her of a cow. His golden mop of curly hair looked like wheat in the firelight. 

“Flossy,” she said, shaking his hand. He couldn’t be that bad if Newt liked him. And he was Keeper of the Track-hoes, after all.

“Felt like I had to come over here. Heard one of the slintheads talking – you don’t want to know what about.”

“Me, I’m guessing. And nothing… nice.”

He nodded slowly at that.

“Nothing nice,” he said. “They’re less likely to try something if a Keeper’s nearby. Surprised Newt didn’t stick around.”

“I told him I didn’t need a babysitter. And that I’d find a Keeper or go to Frypan if someone was bothering me.”

“Good that. Fry’s good at keeping eyes on Greenies. Also makes great bacon.” He pulled out a few slices from his pocket and offered her one. She shook her head, not wanting to think about what else he might have stored in those pockets.

Zart shrugged and bit off the tops of three slices.

“What’re you thinking about?” he said.

“About what?”

“What do you want to be? Your job here in the Glade. Everyone has to have one. We all have to do our part.”

“Oh, um, Track-hoe. With you and the others. Newt said it was relaxing.”

“Relaxing for a Runner, yeah, but it’s hard work. And don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re a girl.”

She smiled as he wagged the bacon at her. It was meant to be a threat but coming from him, seemed more playful and teasing. 

“And don’t tell Gally, either,” he said. 

“Why not?” she said.

“You’re small and light, be great for climbing on roofs that might be rotting.”

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t like heights then. Can’t put me up there if I’m going to faint or vomit.” She paused for a moment. “Huh. I’m afraid of heights. What do you know?”

Zart blinked at her, a smile shyly making its way across his face.

“Good that,” he said. “Good that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Zart. And pocket bacon. 
> 
> I was thinking back to the early days of the internet last night, back when we'd all copy and paste stories and how that later turned into creepypasta on forums. And how we don't really have that anymore. It's kind of really sad.
> 
> What am I listening to? [Worst Year Ever Podcast ](https://www.iheart.com/podcast/1119-worst-year-ever-49377032/)
> 
> Come find me on tumblr at forgottenyogurtgods


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three Greenies begin their first full day on the Glade trying out their first job, Slicer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the love and support so far. Really, every little thing warms my ice-cold heart.  
> Anyway, work trials begin this chapter! Yay!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING for this chapter. There is vomiting in the first paragraph. I’ll try to post the tws at the top. If I miss one, please let me know so I can fix it. I do take these things seriously. I know what it’s like to be randomly triggered when you’re not expecting, and I want to keep anyone else from going through the same thing. 
> 
> So, please, if you are ever triggered, let me know. I will not be offended in any way, shape, or form. Anonymous comments are turned on on ff.net, ao3, and tumblr. Just a quick: “Hey, there was this trigger warning in X chapter.”

**Chapter 6**

**In Which Their Lives In The Glade Truly Begin**

Archie regretted every drink he’d had the night before the moment he woke up – which was unreasonably early, as the sun wasn’t even peeking over the Walls quite yet. His stomach churned, and he lurched out of his hammock, rushing to the treeline to empty it. He heaved grotesquely onto a bush.

Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he straightened up and started back to his hammock. He stopped upon seeing Nick, Flossy, and Graham. Nick’s shoulders jerked up and down as he held in his laughter. Flossy tried to hide her amusement behind a cough. And Graham… Graham looked just as amused as he always did – which is to say, not at all. He looked as moveable as any of the Maze walls. Besides the doors, of course.

“Feel better?” Nick said quietly, grinning at him. 

“I feel worse,” he said, rubbing his throat.

“Come on then. Clint might have something for your headache. You’re just going to have to drink lots of water today is all. I have a feeling a lot of these slintheads will share your pain when they wake up.”

They went to the Homestead and took a sharp left into what Archie could guess was for the Med-jacks. There were a few low-rising cots – all unoccupied, which wasn’t a bad sign – and some tables and cabinets. Nick drew a set of keys out of his pockets and flipped through them before finding the right one.

“Clint and I are the only ones with keys to this cabinet,” he said, “so don’t try breaking in or stealing anything.”

Nick opened up the cabinet to reveal a vast array of medical products, all organized by what they did and what they were. Nick plucked out a bottle and twisted off the cap with ease, handing Archie two white tablets. 

There was a word on the bottles – the one, Archie realized, that had been on the containers that had come up with him and the others – that he couldn’t quite make out. Or his brain, rather, couldn’t seem to decipher. He shrugged it off as his head was thumping painfully against his skull.

He took the tablets dry, not waiting for the water – which Nick held out to him after he’d already swallowed the pills. The older boy looked mildly impressed. Still, Archie chugged the water. It sloshed coldly in his stomach.

“Right then,” Nick said, “this way.”

They headed outside to the North Wall. The Glade was still mostly asleep. Only a few people – the Runners, Frypan, and a handful of others – were awake. 

“This is Glader tradition,” Nick said as they walked over. “We started doing it because we didn’t want to forget. We didn’t want to forget our names, and we didn’t want to forget everyone we lost.”

Nick stopped in front of the Wall, looking it up and down. There were names carved into the side, as if it was made of a soft stone rather than concrete. Some were scratched out but still legible. Some were large and some were small. Each one was as unique as the Glader who’d made their mark.

“You three are Gladers now,” Nick continued, his hand tracing over one that was scratched out. George, the name read. Archie wondered how long the name had been like that, and what had happened to him. The scratch looked relatively new. “You are a part of our team. Our friends, our brothers – and our sister. We will be loyal to you, and we expect the same in return.”

Nick drew out a knife and held it out to them.

“By adding your name to this wall, you are committing yourself to everyone here.”

“And if we don’t?” Graham said, crossing his arms and challenging Nick.

“You get dragged out into the Maze and tossed off the Cliff.”

Archie didn’t know if that was actually true or if Nick was trying to mess with Graham. He honestly couldn’t tell. Still, the Greenbean didn’t hesitate. He plucked the knife from Nick’s outstretched hand and moved to mark his name on the wall. It was off to the side, a bit farther from everyone else.

Flossy took it next. She crouched down and chiseled away slowly and meticulously, plucking a rock from the ground to help herself. Unlike everyone else’s name, her’s had a bit more finesse. As if she’d done it before.

Archie went last. He paused after each letter to think about the next. He almost mixed up the ‘i’ and the ‘e’ (which would have been embarrassing). When he finishes, his name is a slew of capital and lowercase letters. And the ‘r’ is backwards. Still, it’s his name, and it’s there on the wall.

He’s a Glader.

“Good that,” Nick said, arms crossed as he watched Archie finish. 

There was a grinding of metal on metal and the stone walls to the Maze opened. They watched a few of the Runners jogged up to the North entrance – the boy who Dave had introduced as Minho and Alby were amongst their number – and do a couple of quick stretches, led by, surprisingly, by Newt. And then, as one, they darted off into the Maze. Other Runners did the same near the other doors.

“How about some breakfast, hm?” Nick said, gesturing to Frypan’s hut.

* * *

The Blood House was in the South-East corner of the Glade. It was something of a mix between a barn and a slaughterhouse. Honestly, Archie was a bit terrified to be there. He didn’t think he had what it took to be a Slicer. He didn’t think any of them did.

Still, he and the others had to go through with the trial. It was best to get it done and over with as quickly as they could. 

The Keeper of the Slicers was a slender boy named Winston. Archie wasn’t sure what happened to his face, but he didn’t think puberty was the main cause of it. The smile didn’t help his appearance much, either.

Nick left them with Winston.

“Alright, slintheads,” Winston said, looking them up and down. He wasn’t very tall – just a couple inches shorter than him. He could almost match Graham in height.

Everyone in the Glade was so… different. He wondered why they were all here. Were they criminals? The high walls and the Maze made sense with that idea. But, then, why wipe their memory? What was the point in that? Perhaps to give them a second chance to redeem themselves? He doubted it.

“...get you seriously hurt,” Winston said, “or killed. Really, it’s up to you.”

He shrugged, as if it was nothing. 

“Now,” he continued, gesturing to the Blood House, “if you’ll follow me.”

Graham and Flossy filed in after him. Archie followed cautiously. 

The Blood House was warm. It smelled of dusty straw mixed with urine and salt from animal sweat, manure and old wood and grain. The animals were organized into pens, each in varying sizes depending on what they were. The late morning sun – which had been white and cold feeling outside, was golden and highlighted the dust and spiderwebs tucked into corners – filtered in through the doors, lighting the space. The air felt heavy with the humidity that permeated the whole of the Glade.

“Right,” Winston said, “Greenie, Greenbean, I’ll leave you to it. Girlie, come with me. The chickens are out this way.”

Flossy looked back at them, shooting them a slightly distressed face and waving. Still, she followed Winston outside, through a door leading out to what looked like a large, fenced-in pasture.

“So,” Graham said, cracking his knuckles.

“So,” Archie echoed.

“You have no idea what we’re supposed to be doing, do you.” It wasn’t a question.

He shrugged, offering up a shy smile. He didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed by Graham being able to read him. It was as if Graham knew he wouldn’t be paying any attention to what Winston said and had done the listening for the both of them.

“We’re feeding the animals,” Graham said, nodding to the feed sacks leaning against the wall. “After that, we’re mucking out the stalls and putting in new straw. Then, we go find Winston. He’ll be working outside somewhere. To the East end of the pasture.”

“And Flossy?”

“She’s in charge of the chickens. Winston figured she wouldn’t mind being the one working in the coop. It’s not a very big place, and it’s in his line of sight.”

“He thinks someone will try something.”

“All the Keepers do.”

“Do you?”

Graham gave a non-committed shrug as he went to grab a bag of feed. He was trying to distance himself from her, Archie realized. 

He gave the Greenbean a once over. Graham was shorter than him, coming up to his nose, but with broader shoulders. He had a straight nose and blue eyes. And fair hair. He looked very similar to Flossy, actually – only, she had gray eyes and her face was rounder.

“You and Flossy look alike,” Archie said quietly. “Kind of like you could be related.”

“What?”

“You and Flossy. You could be related or something.”

Graham frowned and thought about it. He worried at his bottom lip, a bag of feed draped over his left shoulder.

“Do we?” Graham said. “Huh.”

“Yeah, don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”

Graham snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Flossy and I related? That’s a load of klunk. I’ve never heard of anything more ridiculous.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. I mean, why would the Creators put relatives in the same place? We could easily recognize one another and get our memories back or something.” Graham shook his head. Whether at his statement or the audacity of Archie’s claim. “Honestly, if you think she and I are related, you should get a view of yourself. You both have the same nose and chin.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s weird seeing you two next to one another.”

“Huh.”

“Anyway, we have work to do, and I don’t think Winston will go easy on us if we don’t get things done in a reasonable amount of time.”

“Right,” Archie said, “so, feeding animals?”

“Feeding animals.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s going to be a lot of filler chapters coming up. I completely forgot that I wrote a lot of filler. I had to have them go through the trials and actually edited them down with summaries of what happened (thankfully, not much). But there’s still filler.
> 
> At least something funny happens in the next chapter.
> 
> I actually looked up how to chisel your name into stone because I got bored one day.
> 
> What am I listening to? [Legends From the Pacific](https://legendsfromthepacific.com/)
> 
> [Follow me on tumblr at forgottenyogurtgods for nerdy stuff](https://forgottenyogurtgods.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of research I put into for the scenes in the farm and Blood House is kind of ridiculous. It’s been ages since I’ve been in a barn. Almost 17 years now. And for a good reason. The family members who still work on them have… unsavory opinions and beliefs of the LGBTQA+ community and are pretty racist.
> 
> So, guess which family members the gay cousin squad doesn’t see!
> 
> Trigger warning for this chapter! There is blood and gore mentioned. And an animal is cleaned and prepped to be eaten. And some unsavory stuff about mucking out stalls and… falling into that muck. And mentions of vomiting.

**Chapter 7**

**In Which Graham Takes A Dive**

Flossy was glad she was in the chicken coop. It smelled just as bad and some of the hens didn’t exactly like having her in there, but something told her it was better than the Blood House. It was larger than she initially expected, suitable for the fourteen chickens, surrounded by a decently sized range that enclosed the coop, the run, and some of the pasture in the Glade. 

Winston gave her an easy task, she was aware of that. Feeding took no time at all. The chickens were happy to eat and pecked at the ground as she went inside for her next task – collecting the eggs, which was actually quite enjoyable. The chickens didn’t seem to mind her doing that while they ate.

Washing the eggs was a delicate task – something, she found, she was quite good at. Most of the eggs just had to be wiped down with a sponge. Only a handful had dried poop or bits of yolk from another egg dried on them. She was grateful that Winston had gotten her a bowl of warm water before she’d started – she had no idea where to even look.

Cleaning the straw took a bit more time. It had to be changed twice a day, as it was terrible at collecting moisture, and the Glade was usually warm. It could get humid really easily, and it tended to linger in the coop especially.

“It rots too easily,” Winston said to her before he let her in the enclosure so she could work. “I asked for something better a couple of times, but the Creators never send it up. Normally, I have one of the Slicers do this, but I gave him the day off. He’s nursing a bit of a hangover, like the rest of the slintheads around here.”

She didn’t doubt that he wasn’t the only one. From what she could see, quite a few of the boys were lazing about. Mostly the Slicers and the Bricknicks. Gally had the Builders at work – though some were moving about reluctantly and glaring at their Keeper – and the Track-hoes were tending to the Gardens under Zart’s instructions, moving slowly. The Baggers all stood near the entrances to the Maze, looking bored – a few of them were probably sleeping on their feet. They seemed like they had it easy. The Sloppers were cleaning away, though they weren’t rushing around. She couldn’t see Frypan and the Cooks, but she was certain they were just like everyone else. She wondered if the smell of food was making anyone feel ill.

All things considered, she finished in the coop just shortly before the midday break. She slipped out of the chicken enclosure, clicking at the hens as she left. To them, she was insignificant, like anyone else in the Glade. That was an oddly nice and comforting thought.

She headed over to Winston in the… slicing area. She cringed at the warm, metallic scent of blood. The sight of it was worse than the smell. Winston and two other Slicers were in the middle of gutting and cleaning a pig.

“All done, Girlie?” Winston said, pulling out the intestines. They dropped down into a metal basin at their feet. He worked with his bare hands. His arms were slick and stained red. That almost sent her running for the hills.

She had a feeling they were doing this on purpose. They most likely were.

“Yeah,” she said, feeling a little light headed. It wasn’t so much the blood as it was watching them work. She tried to pay attention to their faces and not the splayed pig on the table in front of them or the blood covered parts of them.

“Go and get the boys. You guys deserve a break.” He nodded to the Blood House. She looked away and all but ran from the sight. She was not meant to be a Slicer. Tending to the animals, sure, but doing…  **_that_ ** ? There was no way she’d be able to handle it.

Graham and Archie were still mucking out stalls. They weren’t even a quarter of the way done. They looked up at her when she entered. 

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Archie said, leaning on a stall divider. “What’s up?”

“Midday break. Winston gave us permission to go get some lunch.”

“We’re almost finished with this stall,” Graham said. “Wait for us?”

“Sure.”

She found a three legged stool that was probably used for milking the goats and cows and lounged on it, her back leaning against a stall divider and her legs stretched out in front of her. After the cramped quarters of the coop, this was a luxury.

“How were the chickens?” Graham said as they worked.

“Not so bad,” she said, looking down at her shoes. They weren’t really meant for working in the Glade, the soles were too thin. They were made for indoor work. She hoped some new ones were sent up for her. “If I just had to work with the chickens all day, I probably wouldn’t mind being a Slicer. How were things in here?”

“Hot,” Archie said.

“Lots of heavy stuff,” Graham said.

“Almost got attacked by a goat.”

“The pig with the black spot around his left eye is mean.”

“I hate sheep.”

“Sheep poop a lot,” Graham said, looking at Archie. Archie nodded.

“The ram’s worse.”

“Ugh, I hate the ram.”

“What?” Flossy said, trying not to laugh. She looked between the boys, unsure of what she just heard. These boys, really. She was glad to see Graham opening up and talking more, though. Never a bad sign.

“Everything going okay in here?” Winston said, walking in. He was wiping off the blood on his arms with a towel that was stained brown with old blood. He looked between the three of them.

Flossy returned her gaze to her shoes, and then she heard a thump. She looked up to Archie and then Graham. Graham had fainted right into the pile he and Archie had just mucked out of the stall.

* * *

After Graham had been carried off to the Med-hut, once again, Flossy and Archie were sent to lunch. Frypan and the Cooks made up simple ham and swiss sandwiches for the Gladers. Flossy hadn’t looked at Archie since they’d left the Blood House. She couldn’t without wanting to laugh.

She felt bad for Graham, landing in a pile of muck and whatever else. It was gross. And what was worse was that he’d have to wake up smelling like that. Poor Clint and Jeff, having to smell him like that until then. She did not pity them that day.

“Okay,” Archie said, watching as she tore her sandwich into smaller pieces – it was almost inedible at that point, “what’s up with you? Are you not hungry or something? You could probably talk to Fry and have him make you something else, if you want. It’s you, so he’d probably do it. If it was me, well, that wouldn’t go over very well. Hey, Flossy, you even listening?”

She shrugged, not giving a real answer.

Gally sat down next to her. A few Builders and Bricknicks joined them – she had a feeling she’d meet them later when they got the chance to work together. She felt their curious eyes on her rather than saw them.

“Why’d you kill your sandwich?” a Builder said, gesturing to her plate. “Did Winston convince you to be a Slicer? I knew it. Can’t trust him with anyone.”

“Where’s the Greenbean?” a Bricknick said, looking at the two of them.

“Fainted,” Archie said. “Winston came in to see why we were taking so long, Graham saw the blood, and…” Archie demonstrated Graham’s faint with his arm. “He landed in a pile of muck. I feel bad for the Med-jacks right now.”

The Builders and Bricknicks gagged and groaned in disgust and amusement. None of them pitied Graham. Or Clint and Jeff, if seemed.

“Winston make you kill a chicken yet?” a Bricknick said.

“What?” she said, looking up at him. Kill a chicken? Winston was Keeper of the Slicers, and he did work in the Blood House… It did make sense. 

“Not yet,” Gally said. “Winston likes for the Greenies to have lunch first, then he makes them kill a chicken. It weeds out the weak ones – according to him.”

Her stomach roiled at the thought. She didn’t think she could do it.

“We’ll take that as a no then,” one of the Builders said, smirking at the look on her face. 

“I would say have fun with that, but I don’t think it’d be appropriate.” Gally said. 

“Why, cause she’s a girl?” the Builder sitting across from him said.

“Something like that.”

Flossy watched as Gally looked at all of the Builders and Bricknicks sitting at their table. So, vomiting and fainting were normal for the job trials, especially for Slicers. Good to know.

“Fry’s going to hate that you wasted that sandwich, Princess,” Gally said, pointing to her plate.

“I think he’d hate me more if I threw it back up,” she said, looking down at the miserable pile. She looked up at him and slid the plate close to him. “I don’t think I can eat right now. Too much on my mind.”

He shrugged and took it. Food was, apparently, food and he was more than willing to take more of it. Boys and their bottomless pits for stomachs. It was gross how much they could consume in a matter of minutes.

She folded her arms on the table and rested her head down in them. She had only been in the Glade for twenty-four hours, and she was already exhausted from… well, she wasn’t sure why she was exhausted. The emotional toll of waking up in an unfamiliar place, with no memory of who you were, or where you came from was probably the best she could give.

It wasn’t that she hated being here, but she wasn’t exactly enjoying herself either. She could imagine how dozens of other girls would  **_kill_ ** to be in her position. And speaking of other girls, why was she the only one? Maybe they were placed elsewhere. In another Maze.

That was a lonely thought.

She hadn’t realized she had started to drift off until someone – Archie – shook her shoulder.

“Come on,” he said. “We have to go back to the Blood House. We have a few hours left.”

“At least we know two things,” she said, getting off the bench.

“What?”

“Neither Graham or I will be Slicers.”

“And the other thing?”

“Gally’s part bird. He’s willing to eat a broken up sandwich.”

Archie gave her a full-bellied laugh, nearly keeling over onto the ground. The sound made her feel lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Graham. 
> 
> What am I listening to? [Meddling Adults (If you like listening to adults attempting to solve mysteries meant for kids, I recommend it. The winner gets a donation for their charity of choice.)](%E2%80%9C)
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at [forgottenyogurtgods for writing nonsense, archaeology, and just nerdy stuff.](%E2%80%9C)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The job trials are, well, trialing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More filler! 
> 
> This pillow is nothing but filler!
> 
> ...I wish I was back in bed...
> 
> Trigger warning for this chapter. Talk of killing animals to be eaten is throughout this chapter.

**Chapter 8**

**In Which The Greenie Observes Quite A Bit**

It turned out that Flossy could kill a chicken. That… that frightened him. And a lot of the other Gladers, when they found out. The vast majority thought she could do it, it seemed. She really wasn’t into it, but she was more than capable of doing so. She didn’t eat any of the chicken at dinner, however – sticking to the rice and mixed vegetables. She managed to impress Winston, something he hadn’t really vied for but wanted to.

None of them would be Slicers, it was decided – though Winston was willing to take Flossy on if she wanted the job. She, of course, didn’t.

Their second day of trials they were placed under the eye of Billy, Keeper of the Baggers. It was one of the most boring things he’d ever had to do – which was saying a lot because he couldn’t remember doing anything else. Billy had him posted at the West gate with Jackson, who fell asleep while on guard duty. Leaving him with no one to talk to or fill his time. No one was stupid enough to run off into the Maze, other than the Runners.

Flossy spent the day with Billy. Apparently, the two of them had a practically philosophical conversation, because they carried on at lunch and dinner. Archie didn’t pay much attention to what it was about, but the pair seemed really into it. And it seemed to annoy a few others, namely Alby.

Graham spent the day at the South gate with Reed. Graham didn’t speak much on what happened, but by his rather blank expression, Archie surmised it had been just as boring as his. 

At breakfast on their third morning of job trials, Graham and Flossy sat next to one another. Archie could easily point out the similarities between the pair, and he knew his hypothesis about them being related was more than likely correct. They hadn’t brought it up and neither had he, so he let them be for the time being.

It did make him wonder if he looked like them as well. It wasn’t completely tossed out but, as Graham had said, the likelihood that the Creators would put people who were related into the Glade together was slim to nil. He didn’t want to rule it out of the realm of possibilities, however. 

He didn’t get much more time to ponder those thoughts, as they had work to do. They were with the Sloppers on their third day, which he soon found out, was almost as bad as being a Bagger. The Gladers were messy. Dishes were stacked haphazardly, clothes were muddied beyond belief, tables were stained with – how old was that gravy?  **_Was it even gravy?_ **

He could barely handle it.

Graham helped him and a few others with the dishes. Flossy and several others took on the clothes – which he didn’t pity her for. That afternoon, they all cleaned the restrooms and showers. It was worse than any other cleaning they’d had to do. Honestly, he didn’t know how any of them were handling it.

On the fourth day, they were with the Bricknicks. They spent a good portion of the day repairing a wall to the Kitchens that had started to rot through. It was tedious.

The fifth day, they were with the Builders. Gally kept everyone busy at all times. Graham was off gathering wood in the Deadheads and would later help with another project, Flossy was helping Gally with some trellises for the Gardens, and he was stuck making a few new tables for the dining area.

He could do the work but he wasn’t really cut out for it, he could already tell. Still, he did it without complaining. It helped that a lot of the Builders were pretty great to work with. They made the time pass by quickly and easily. By the time lunch came around, he felt like he’d only been working for a little over two hours. 

Unlike the previous days, they didn’t take their lunch break with the rest of the Gladers. Gally’s orders. They needed the tables done by the end of the next day, then they had to begin on benches for those said tables. As well as an extension on the dining pavilion.

“Is he always like that?” Archie said, watching as Gally ate and worked at the same time. He was explaining something to Flossy, gesturing to the trellis they were working on while she kneeled on a work table, mimicking what he was doing on another section.

“Gally?” said a dark haired boy – Adam. “Yeah, he can be.”

“Shuck-face is hogging the Girlie, though,” Stan – a red head with an obnoxious amount of freckles and pickle green eyes – said. He didn’t like the way Stan’s eyes roved over her.

“Flossy,” he said. “Her name’s Flossy.”

“Flossy, Florry, Floaty, Flo, whatever. She’s ‘the Girlie’, as she’s the only shucking girl in the Glade. Even Nick calls her that.”

Archie frowned at that. She had a name, one they all knew by now. If they respected her, even a little bit, they should use it when talking about her and to her.

“The reason Gally’s hogging her,” Dan – a blond – said, “is because he knows slintheads like you wouldn’t get any work done with her around. And everyone will start using her name when a new Greenie comes up in a month.”

“Or they’ll keep calling her Girlie,” Adam said, “if no other girl comes up.”

“Or they’ll give her their own personal nickname,” Dave said, “like Gally has.”

“What does he call her again?” Adam said.

“ **_Princess_ ** . You’ve heard him call her that, right, Greenie?”

“A couple of times, yeah,” Archie said, shrugging. Actually, every time he’d heard Gally use it, the Keeper had been insulting or teasing her in some way. But that seemed to be Gally’s thing – the tough guy who insults everyone not worthy of being around him. Maybe he should be glad Gally hadn’t thought of an insult for him. Yet.

“Right, we need to get back to work,” Stan said. “These tables won’t build themselves.”

“If only,” Dan said, sighing wistfully.

* * *

"Everything hurts," Flossy said, lying her whole body against the table. Her hair spread out around her head like a faint white-gold fan, the rays of the sun spread out to capture everything around and light them on fire.

"That means you did good work," Newt said, placing her plate next to her arms.

"You really helped with the trellises," Gally said. "I wouldn't have been able to get much done without your help. We'll be able to put them up for tomorrow, and then you can help Zart transfer them over when you try at being a Track-hoe."

"Great," she said, stretching out the vowels.

She lifted her head and looked at the food. Steamed vegetables glazed in honey, roasted chicken with rosemary, thyme, and lemon, browned in butter, and mashed potatoes with the skin and goat cheese mixed in, dressed in a gravy made of the chicken drippings and a simple rue. It was really quite delicious. Archie thought for certain he would go back up for seconds – maybe thirds.

"Frypan's really trying to win you over with the chicken," Newt said, seeing her face twist up at eating the fowl-based meal. 

"I don't think he can," she said. "I mean, it looks and smells really good, but..."

"Knowing where it came from and how it was made is really only half the battle. Trust me on that. Most Greenies can't eat chicken or pork or mutton the first month or so after working in the Blood House. You just sort of get used to it over time."

"I don't think I ever will. I might become vegetarian while I'm here." She took the chicken from off her plate and set it on Gally's – he didn't seem to mind. He never did.

"Fry's not going to be happy about that," Gally said, picking up the chicken and eating it anyway. He gave her most of his vegetables and some of his potatoes in return.

"Yeah, well, he'll just have to deal with it. I just hope he makes something else tomorrow. I'm getting really tired of chicken."

"You and me both," Newt said, though he took a healthy bite of his cut.

"How are our Greenies doing?" Nick said, walking over to them. He rested his hands on Archie and Graham's back.

"Pretty good so far," Archie said. "Though, Flossy's getting tired of chicken. Think you can talk to Frypan into making something different tomorrow?"

"I'll see what I can do. Maybe pork or something."

"Ugh," Flossy said, her face scrunching up. "I've seen them gut and clean the pigs. I don't think I'll be able to eat that either. Yeah, I think I just might become vegetarian."

"You'd be the first. You also might give Fry an excuse to make more vegetarian friendly meals. I know he's been dying to try out a couple of recipes…”

"Has he? Oh, good, I just might do something wonderful for the Glade."

"Now hold on, Princess," Gally said, "I like my meat. Don't go messing with my diet just because you can't handle the way the Slicers get our food ready. I can't wait to see how you think of Zart's gardening. He's worse than Winston, if you ask me."

“Nobody asked you. And your diet is terrible. All you eat is meat and bread. Have some vegetables. They’re not poisonous.”

Gally frowned and looked at the carrot that was speared through her fork, offered up to him as some sort of limp sacrifice. He pushed it back towards her, a look of abject horror twisting his face.

“I’d rather not,” he said. “Pretty sure Zart’s trying to poison me or something. You never know.”

“He wouldn’t poison our Girlie, though,” Newt said. “He wants to see her work in the Gardens, thinks she’ll show a lot of promise there.”

Gally looked as though he were about to object, but Nick cut him off.

“It’s good to see you integrating into the Glade, Flossy,” Nick said. “Archie, how are you doing?”

Archie shrugged.

“Haven’t really found anywhere yet,” he said, stirring his potatoes with his fork.

“We’d be happy to take you on as a Builder,” Gally said. “I looked over your work today. You did pretty good. There’s only a few things you’ll have to work on, but no one starts out that great.”

“I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And Graham, how are you?” Nick said, looking to the Greenbean. Archie really hadn’t had a chance to talk with Graham in a while. He wondered how his friend – were they even friends? – was doing.

“I’m alright,” Graham said, shrugging. He didn’t expand his answer. He took a bite of his potatoes and looked away. Honestly, the way things were going, Archie had a feeling that Graham would either become a Slopper or a Bagger. 

“Good that,” Nick said, frowning. He patted their backs and nodded. “Alright then, I’m off to get my own dinner. Remember if any of you need anything, come to me, Newt, or Alby.”

Archie made note of the way Nick’s eyes landed on Flossy and stayed on her until she nodded. He hadn’t noticed any of the Gladers say anything to her face, but he had heard what they said behind her back. And none of it was exactly… flattering. 

It was no wonder that her smiles looked strained and her body posture was tense half the time. She was terrified of them. How long before they proved her fears correct?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s slow here. Please send help.
> 
> Also, can you tell I enjoy food? I really enjoy food. I’ve made that particular meal before and I don’t think we had any leftovers, except for my dad’s dinner the next day. I would make it tonight, but, uh, I don’t have any chicken. Or goat cheese.
> 
> What am I listening to? [Me and AU (a queer romance audio drama based around fanfiction).](https://www.procyonpodcastnetwork.com/me-au)
> 
> Come follow me on tumblr at [forgottenyogurtgods.](https://forgottenyogurtgods.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> And that's the start.
> 
> What am I listening to? [Casting Lots: A Survival Cannibalism Podcast](https://www.stitcher.com/show/casting-lots-a-survival-cannibalism-podcast)
> 
> [You can find me on tumblr.](https://forgottenyogurtgods.tumblr.com/)


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